


who takes you home

by roguewrath (purqatory)



Series: cliff's edge [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, One Shot Collection, So here they are, and im extra, no one sent me any, prompts from tumblr, relationship prompts from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purqatory/pseuds/roguewrath
Summary: a set of rebelcaptain mini-fics + tumblr relationship memes + prompts





	1. one last time

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. FIRST kiss

They don't get to taste each other the first time they kissed.

He has to break their brows apart, and spits out a mouthful of blood to the side, and it splashes down his worn trousers and onto the platform of the ship. He doesn't know how she can still lean into him, her nose at his damp and feverish forehead, her gloved fingers maps his temples and turn his face into hers: she does, though, and so their first kiss tastes of dust, sand and is tinged with his blood.

He remembers nothing much after that, because he crumbles as she lets him up for air. 

He makes sure he gets to keep a stubborn fist around the back of her vest, because he is falling again, and this time, he selfishly hopes that she is coming back for him.

 

Their second kiss mingles with fresh breath, bacta and the salve for her torn lip.

At least -  _at last_ \- they get to kiss. Again, and again, and again.

 


	2. don't get too close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. PAINFUL kiss

He almost trips over his right leg as the shift over to his left is interrupted by the _Falcon_ docking, 0100, right on the dot, fifteen standard-days late. He is impatienceagitatationantsy all wrapped in one,  _he knows_ , but it has been over thirty  _kriffing_  days.  

She leaps down from the still-opening door and into his arms. Their noses knocks together, and she swallows his low grunt. His hand works its way to his place at the base of her head, fingers cards through her loose ponytail; the heady scent of her begs him to answer the urge to feel _more_ : he does, lifting her up and lets her step on his boots. 

Her arm braces around his neck, just the way he likes her to, traps them so close they can hardly breathe, but that is how kissing works, how _their_ kiss always works. 

_She's so light_ , is the second thing on Cassian's mind. The hand that cups her cheek can easily trace the outlines of her cheekbones. Her hair, dry from space, gets tangled in his hand and she sucks in a breath.

" _Careful_." Solo's gruff voice behind her has Jyn cursing against his mouth, and she winds her arms around his waist. Cassian looks up, past Jyn's head and to her mission partner. "Your girl is a bit fragile at the moment, Andor."

"What?" His arms, already too tight around her frame, loosens; Jyn must have foreseen it happening, because her grip on him strengthens. 

"I already checked her in the med bay early." Solo's tone is still nonchalant, but his eyes stiffens as he watches Jyn folds herself around Andor, like an anchor, a safe port. He _is_ , that is why Han allows the kiss. 

" _Jyn_." Now her loosen hair makes sense, explains her drooping head against his shoulder. The chill at the back of his neck have been justified.

Jyn mutters from his collarbone: "You have to stop greeting me with _that tone_."

Andor's face contorts with a mix of bewilderment, concern and outrage, and it is hilarious. "I will be in the debrief if you need me, Erso."

"No, I won't. Go _away_ , Solo."

" _Nice_ working with you, too, kid." Han pointedly taps the top of his spine, and then jabs a finger at the woman in Andor's arms. "Con _cussion_." he mouths, and pats Jyn on the back. 

Cassian gives Solo a curt nod. "I will join you in the debrief once she's at medical." He doesn't mean it as a warning, but as he catches Solo's wince, he grits his teeth and hoists Jyn into his arms. He can't think about the fact that she's quiet, her body sags against his chest, and she's more clingy than she probably lets herself to be are all contributed by the extent of her injuries. 

Jyn nudges her nose against his rigid jawline. "The mission went well. It's fine."

"And you sound like Draven." 

Cassian feels her snort against his throat. "That's a bit rich coming from you, isn't it, _Captain_?"

He stamps a hard kiss on her head, "Let me get used to having you back first before comparing notes, alright?"

"Hmm." she places a hand over his unshaven cheek. " _Hello,_ _I'm home._ "


	3. what shall we die for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a birthday fic for lclrgsl &  
> 15\. A kiss BECAUSE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN WATCHING YOU ALL NIGHT AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: heavily inspired by this amazing [gifset](http://lclrgsl.tumblr.com/post/161699475887/rebelcaptain-pirates-au-shed-heard-the-stories) (which i didn’t even realize was luce's until half-way lol) and i am jamming to _will & elizabeth’s theme_

Cassian is blaming the band of merry men and their celebrations for triggering a jovial mood. 

The festivities are still in full swing: Malbus is tasked with passing the drink around, and bellows when someone spills, threatens with more chores. Rook tirelessly churning tune after tune on his fiddle, contrasting against this patchwork of men sprawled on the deck –  Îmwe leading the songs in Cantonese while the rest of the men belts with their own language at the top of their lungs – as his first mate watches on with his beady eyes, occasionally rolling them skywards as each melody ends and another follows suit, never-ending. 

He is blaming – for the lack of a better word, and how foreign its  _actual_ taste is on his tongue – this  _hope_  that is blossoming in his chest, that for once in the six and twenty years of his life, he can finally breathe in the air of freedom.

And nay, he is not putting blame on Miz Erso. Not on how the lantern-lights plays with the auburn in her loose hair; how drink puts a slight sheen of rogue in her cheeks; how his borrowed shirt curls and un-furls from her curves in the wind; how a dagger is still strapped to her trousers and how she is resting against the deck, in the opposite and equally-lone end of his ship, gazing out into the midnight sea. The crystal heirloom around her neck collects the ivory of the moon, a beacon. 

Because Cassian is the moth, drawn to its flames.

He prides himself with his lightness of foot, but the sword wound on his leg is a hinderance, especially when he is stubbornly-resisting a crutch. 

“Captain Andor.” she acknowledges him and his not-so-silent approach, and slips the crystal down her shirt.

“Miss Erso.” At the corner of his eye, she joins him with the view of the crew. His people, his friends, his family. All he has ever known, all he has ever had, and everything his life has to offer is on board this ship.

All he  _wants_  is on the  _Fulcrum_. He gazes down at her now: her chin is resting on her linked hands, her thumb at the corner of her lips, her long lashes fluttering: the telltale sign of her contemplating – 

“Shall I set the course for England?” A swift kick to his own gut, being the one to bring up their agreement. It does matter that his men  _worships_  her, but there is no more excuses, no more justifications of needing her there. 

She swipes across her lower lip before she brings herself to speak: “I have put what’s left of my inheritance onto the table, the bet that our mission is going to succeed,” And it did. They are carefree, proud and victorious. Everything she hopes for. "Frankly, there’s nothing for me there, not anymore.“ The corner of her eye twitches and she blinks: under the moonlight, there is no longer sorrow, or the ghosts of her parents swimming in the emerald-blue depths, but pensive acceptance and the sadness that may never go away. 

He doesn’t lose himself in Jyn Erso’s eyes: in them, fiery, selflessness and strength, he finds what has been lost to him, and he craves more, so much more. 

"You?” Jyn leans back and rests her elbows on the pillar. Strands of her hair drifts with the breeze to her neck and brushes across her face. She’s a vision.

He moves closer, props his side against the wood. “North Carolina has only even been where I grew up in. Nothing more, really.”

“Draven.” she curtly reminds him. 

“He hasn’t been my guardian for a long time… I would like to think that this mission is his allowance for us to part ways. Permanently.” he rests emphasis on the last word, and her lips stops pursing begrudgingly. 

“Where would you call home, then?”

She twists on her shoulders to glance down, just as cheers, jeers and laughter meld with the sound of the waves. Her eyes brightens at her oldest companion’s distinctive laugh. "Home is wherever they may be,“  _Bodhi_  being well-treated and fed will always be her priority, and Cassian understands completely; he watches her endearment set on her shoulders, can almost sense the tension draining from her along with  _Baze_  and  _Chirrut_ ’s own duet.  

She reaches for him first: her small hand moves to clasp his, and he turns it so he can envelope hers. "Home is where you are." 

He stares at her, his daring drained for him to look up so he is hardly breathing. 

“Are you sure? This life –  with me – ”

She pulls his arms around her and secures hers around his shoulders. “All the way.”

"Are you going to hit me this time?” Cassian manages to smirk, roguish lines creases the corners of his eyes when she lets out her soft laugh.

“I can’t guarantee about the next.” Jyn murmurs against his jaw; the back of her fingers runs along his cheek until it reaches the brim of his stupid hat, pushes it off. He lets her, starved to chart her velvet, delicate face with his calloused and roughened fingers. 

She steadies his face with the palms of her hands, pushes his too-long bangs away from his face, snags at the never compliant strand. “There you are.” 

He inhales sharply, and dives: he tastes the rum on her tongue, and his teeth clashes with hers. They are gasping as their lips part, and he raises her higher, his nose trailing along from her mouth to her chin, to the end of her jaw, and then back up her cheek, and covers her mouth again. She brackets her hands at the base of his head and towers over him; her touch is careful along the column of his throat, follows the vibrations from his groans, digs into his collarbone. She nips at his lower lip, though, leaning back so he has to follow, to stop being so delicate with her. His hands leaves her face and gathers her hair from her shoulders and lets it fall down over her back: he does so that when he cups her face, his thumbs is tracing over the planes of her face, scars, battle wounds and all. She does the same to his torso, yanks his shirt free beneath his coat, her hands small enough they overlap at the fingertips on the small of his back, and then runs up to his shoulder blades and holds on.

His teeth retaliates and tugs her lower lip. “As promised, the  _Fulcrum_  is yours.” He backs her back against the pillar, caging her with his arms. 

She drops her hands from his back to his waistline. “So you do remember.” she chuckles against the bridge of his nose.

“It has only been a month.” Cassian draws one of her hands tightly over his heart, keeping  _her_ , meaning  _it_. 

Sometimes, most of the time, he can hardly believe she exists. 

Often, always, she believes that he is no more than a dream. 

“A new agreement, then.” Jyn raises up in her toes, pressing her forehead against his. “It’s  _ours_.”       


	4. those big brown eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. SAD kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is inspired from [this](http://daenerysn.tumblr.com/post/162764679439/woobani-cassian-andor-appreciation-week-day-7) lovely _uncle cassian to poe_ fic  <3

"Did you two have a fight?"

Jyn grimaces, glancing sideways, guiltily catching Shara's eye. "No. We are just tired from the flight."

"Thank you for flying back in such short notice."

The crushing weight that feels of heartache clenches her throat. "Shara, we couldn't miss it." is all she can manage. 

"Then why the sad face?"

Jyn staggers a deep breath, taking the strength from her friend before fixing her eyes upon Shara's husband, and the newborn in Cassian's arms. "In a fairer life, he _is_ a great father." 

Shara knows Jyn doesn't realize it, so she puts a hand over Jyn's against her own stomach: "Kes wanted our child so badly... and I was more afraid to not have Poe than to have him,"

The urge to put her own hand down is much, but Shara is adamant to keep it there. "Jyn, be afraid that you are preventing another piece of goodness and light coming into your lives and into this galaxy. You two earned it."

"... I know, I -"

"Erso, Andor - hold-parents?" 

For once, Jyn is glad Cassian is too distracted to look at her: instead, Cassian is still awestruck, his arms cradling the sleeping baby, still putty without the bright brown eyes trained upon him. Poe's lashes flutter against his cheeks as he dreams; he is so tiny, but his shocking head of curly hair throws his delicate features off-balance. 

Jyn exhales and then she is smiling softly at the Damerons, "Of course, Kes," she slips her hand over the back of Cassian's neck, a few fingers tangles into his hair, and presses a kiss against Cassian's temple. "We are honoured."

 

(Luna Erso-Andor grows up with Poe Dameron two years later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly believe that both Jyn and Cassian could be great parents, but they understand that they are not the right people (yet) to tread that delicate line (again, yet).


	5. markswoman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a prompt from tumblr: basically from my tag of "#and i LOVE the fact that at the Scarif mission debrief cassian is ALIVE to blush about this when draven asked him about it"

Jyn hangs back a few steps from the table, but just close enough so if the captain’s  _spine_  decides to rebel, she can catch him in time. Her current mood is not suitable to be around people, and/or around the tribunal to testify on the very mission they had voted against. It feels like only a few standard days ago, but given the fact that Cassian is standing, albeit pin-straight so his body is held stiffly, it has already been three weeks since Scarif.

“He covered for me while I attempted and succeeded in retrieving the Death Star data disk manually.” 

Draven swipes across his datapad irritably, “- which resulted in a confrontation that caused damage - and unforeseeable impact to his spine.” If he is not in front of the Rebellion’s power structure, he surely would have been spewing cuss words in between.

She slips her hand from said spine and held onto the back of his belt instead. “I would have gone back for him if I have the _intention_ to jeopardize this whole mission -”

“You were not authorised -”

“I did what was necessary, what I had to. Isn’t this what the rebellion is about?  _Rogue One_  would have had a greater possibility of succeeding if we had the backing of a greater fleet, but here we are.” 

“How about him retrieving the disk while  _you_  stand as back-up - ” Her grip on him isn’t just to aid his wellbeing, but her temper - 

“ _I_  saw no alternative.” Cassian’s hip lurches forward, the kind of reflex when one doesn’t realise they are less mobile as they think they are: “Jyn Erso was willing to take that risk, that  _chance_  the Counsel refused to grasp. She is the one who deciphered the code-name for the plans, she risked her life transmitting those plans. She has done what I couldn’t.” 

A slight reddish tint glosses over his cheeks and he is clenching his fists so tightly she can hear them. “And I do not regret any of my actions. If you have expected me to do my job, then there is no reason,  _sir_  -” his tone has an edge to it that toes the line of sounding patronising: “ - to question what my motives were.”

Jyn catches it as their audience suck in their breaths through their teeth to see how Draven would take it: behind Draven, Princess Organa quickly blinks an eye, casts a wink towards Cassian.

“You will be off-duty until you are fully recovered. There will be no repercussion for you, Captain.” 

“Thank you.” It is slyly obvious that Cassian isn’t saying it to the General, but at the Senator.

The way Mon Mothma is staring at them, Jyn suddenly apprehends her barely-there smile.

The way Cassian’s arms are folded, how his hands are clasped behind him; how before he had flexed his jaw against every accusation, how she chose to position herself behind his shoulder as he punches back, and how it may look as if they are holding hands -

Her thumb creeps up his back and meets his seeking pinkie.


	6. five seconds to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said on new year’s eve + forehead kiss

"Thank you for coming." Leia's jaw goes taunt, but her cheekbone-stretching smile says otherwise. The senator, appeased, glances only once at Cassian.

"I swear, if Krennic comes over again to discuss the military expenditure plans, I would take someone's eye out with his badges. Preferably his."

"That sure would be a spectacular headline to cap this year off." Cassian mutters, watches the man's back darkly as the senator drifts back into General Tarkin's circle.

"I thought Mothma and Draven are going to clamp him down - I need a drink."

Cassian looks with her to his colleagues, and nods. "Would you like to know where the First Gentleman is, President Organa?"

"Don't _President Organa_ me, Andor." Cassian doesn't dodge Leia's purposeful elbow as she reaches up to adjust the clip in her flawless chignon. "And did you just address _Han_ as that?" 

"Formalities." 

" _Annoyance_. I thought our clause of working together is clear."

"I apologise, _ma'am_. I can take you to your husband."

Leia rolls her eyes, "Oh, go away. I can find my way to the scoundrel." 

He gestures towards the open doors and the President glides out, and her beam is back on her lips. Maybe it is her intention all along, but she makes a beeline towards her heads of Secret Service. They catches Baze as he is about to saunter off, no doubt trying to pry Luke away from Chirrut in the last few moments. He nods at Leia, and gives Cassian's shoulder a squeeze and shakes his hand.

"Madam President. Secretary of State Andor." Jyn is enthusiastic only when it comes to exasperating Leia. She gets the better treatment, though, as she accepts Leia's hug and a mutter of meeting up later.

Cassian turns back and make sure Leia is with Han and her brother, before following Jyn into the balcony.

"Tired of staring down at people yet?" Jyn turns into Cassian's chest so that she can slip the comm back into her bra strap.

"Only after Leia dismisses me for the evening." He snags her hand carrying the flute and drinks from it. 

"Lawn's clear. Five seconds to go." Jyn's hands ghosts over his lips as he lowers the glass. 

 _4!_ \- Kay's dry voice comes through their earpieces: "Cassian, can you confirm Tantive is with Falcon? Perimeters are secure."

 _3!_ \- "Confirmed, Kay. Melshi, light it up."  

 _2!_ \- Jyn clutches and releases a fist towards the East Wing: "Happy New Year, Bodhi." and is answered by the sky-controller's laugh.

 _1!_   _Happy New Year!_

Cassian, with a smile on his lips, the lights reflecting in his eyes, is what Jyn only - and only Jyn alone gets to - sees as the clock strikes midnight.

Cassian sets Jyn's champagne glass down and she lets his arms band around her waist, pressing his nose to her hairline, and pins her name into her forehead with his lips. Jyn closes her eyes, flattens both of her palms at either side of his throat, and whispers his into his jaw.

His scruff brushes across her skin as the brief kiss ends and she feels him glance up at the sky, a chuckle escaping his mouth. Jyn's hands worms around his shoulders and dives into the back of his head and angles her stare so she can have its best view. 

The moment, this moment, _their_ moment, is so peaceful and _right -_ there's nothing that really needs to be said. 

The fireworks can wait yet another year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to C: i hate that you prompt fluff and i hate that i LET you


	7. from Endor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 31) things you said while I cried in your arms (Cassian is the one crying)

The scissors shivers against two sets of trembles. Jyn sets them down, and cracks her knuckles. Her thumb still shakes and it pulls the tendons on her fore-finger. The hair at the back of his head is singed and jagged, and she’s helpless – in ways a pair of scissors can’t fix. Under his grimy shirt, Cassian’s shoulders are shaking, out of his control, under the rush of prolonged adrenaline and in his agony. 

“Why did you stop? Are you hurting?” His searching hand runs at the back of his head, and she wants to not let it leave, but he is too quick.

“No. Lean back for me.” She trails her hand over his cheek, leads his body against her folded knees. Her touch leaves a streak across the mud and gore on his skin and she knows by the swallow of his Adam’s apple and the choking sound resonating from his throat, he feels it. 

“Jyn, don’t. Don’t make it feel better.” His hoarse voice jerks off at the end, as if they are back at frozen Hoth, not in transit from Endor, and she feels him deflate into someone he loathes, someone that pulls away to places even she can’t reach through. 

Jyn’s brow scrunches up and she has the urge to cry. But he is in her arms and she wants to, so badly – “You did everything that is possible. Cassian, you –”

Cassian twists away from her: “It’s not enough! I could have lost them. I might have killed  _them_.” 

Her hand dives into the crook of his neck, against his pulse, the only way she knows how to calm herself down: he doesn’t let her meet his eyes, so she closes hers, too.

“You do everything within your power to make sure you save everyone in the end. And. You. Did.”  _And_   _I love you for it, I love you. I’m sorry I can’t make it better, I love you, I love you. Is that enough for you?_

“Jyn, I can’t not  _choose_  – Don’t make me –” He is choking in his own spit, his own tears and he raises his sleeves to roughly clean his face. Fresh blood blooms from the unhealed cuts.

“I won’t make you, Cassian,” Jyn folds his sagging and shaking body against hers, his head under her chin. “It’s ... not the ending, but it’s done. Your  _duty –_  is  _done_.”

He pulls away for a breath that seems to tear him up from the inside, through his ribs, breaking his own heart: “I –” 

“You’re fine.” she press a kiss against his forehead, smelling the jungle, the blood and the sweat. “I’m here with you. _”_

He finally latches onto her, his nose in her throat and she feels his sobs from his scruff scratching against her skin, warm and wet tears against her collar, his short breathes against her chest,  _alive alive alive_. 

 _“No matter what.”_  Jyn murmurs into the crown of his head, running her fingers along the back of his head as she rocks them back and forth, back and forth, a mantra, a prayer, a wish, a promise. “I’m always going to be with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya i'm busying packing and moving and plotting the politician!au that i'm very slow in prompts hope you don't mind it will be less hectic in two weeks i hope


	8. no man's land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for luce!
> 
> rebelcaptain + The Americans AU "Being in a relationship is complicated. You don't share everything. You hold back what you need to. Everybody does."
> 
> this scene is inspired by the TV show The Americans 1x01 scene when Elizabeth and Philip first moves to America; the quote, I believe, is from 5x03, which because I haven't caught up with the episode, I cannot provide the context.

_Ord Mantell, 1 BBY_

“ _Maker_ , the climate.” He is shedding his jacket before she even shuts the door. His gloves are next, tossed to the table by the entrance. Jyn barely offers a hum; she locks the door behind her and tugs at the handle (once; almost breaks it; part of her habit).

The room –  _their_  room – is a standard, modest room for a transfer government agent. A living space, its sides connecting to the fresher room, the small dining area and its kitchen, and then it is the bedroom west-side. 

Andor has disposed of their suitcases on the carpeted area, leant down to smooth a hand over one of the cream sofas, and is now surveying the dining table. He pokes a green fruit among the collection in the basket, a decorative piece that Jyn wants to get rid of as soon as she can.

Jyn remains in the living room and lets her hand trail over the furnishings, keeping her curious mask on, just in case. She has to move all over the furniture twice before she’s satisfied that the room is bug-free.

Andor should be doing the same to the kitchen, but when Jyn nonchalantly wanders in, he is standing at the opposite end of the kitchenette, bending his waist down. 

“It’s an air-conditioner.” 

His eyes are wide, his hands poised over the box. “It moderates the temperature here?” Andor’s voice is a mixture of bewilderment, apprehension, and borderline fascination. 

Jyn nods, and flicks the nob up to turn it on. The cold breeze seeps into their clothing, and she can feel more gooseflesh dotting along her arms. 

His sleeve rustle at his side, and Cassian Andor reaches for her, along her shoulder, his cuff touches her ear as he places his hand at the base of her skull, his thumb worms into her bun.

“I’m not ready.”

Andor takes his hand back as if he knows that he is going to get burned, but still did it anyway; his hand stays for one more heart-beat, then retreats altogether. “No – we’re supposed to be married now. That’s all. They’d expect us to have children, eventually. Or maybe you just don’t find me attractive. That’s all.”

He stumbles around with his words; he babbles when he’s nervous, but at least he’s only doing it around her now.

Jyn watches him leave her side, towards the kitchen, and hears him open up the cabinets. She follows him back to the main room, and snatches her suitcases up while he investigates the rest of the doors in the flat without so much as looking into where they lead. 

“How does your attractiveness mean anything?” Jyn asks aloud, at the general direction where the doors are shutting with more force than necessary.

“You do have to wake up to this face from now on. Our children might look like me,  _forbid_.” He adds a bark of laughter in the end, as if it is an inside joke, just to tease her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with your face.” Jyn mutters flatly. She purses her lips as he whips the wardrobe doors open. 

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. She’s protecting herself from him, and that trace of pleading in his eyes he seems to reserve just for conversations they have when they are alone. She remembers how it can hang in his brown eyes, haunting her afterwards. 

“I’m not ready for me and you – for  _us_  to be Joreth and Liana Willix when I am not working.” 

“I –” Andor sighs, his exasperated sigh frees a strand of his hair, and it falls to his forehead.  _There_. He is chosen  _because_  of his face. “We need to get used to each other. As soon as possible. That’s what I mean.”

“You want us to start the relationship?” How apt, for the bed to be between where they each are standing. 

Andor wipes his hand over his jaw, brings it downwards, his beard audibly scratches his palm. “I just want you to trust me. Enough.” 

“Define trust.” She places her suitcases on the side of the bed, furthest away from the entrance, purposefully claiming her territory. 

“You –  _we_  have to talk to each other. We have to get used to that.” 

“We do talk. We talked about the weather and the air-conditioner. We talked to my supervisor about not taking a holiday for our honeymoon yet.” 

“Come  _on_ , Jyn.” 

It is his first slip since his got assigned, over something this trivial. “So you want to rush this? Being in a marriage –  _Force_ , or in a relationship is complicated. You don’t share everything. You hold back when you need to. Everybody does.”

Andor repeats her last line by re-issuing it as a question.

“ _I_ do.” She winces at how quick her response is. “And maybe you have to be content with that for the time being.” 

Andor’s mouth moves to bite the inside of his cheek. Jyn holds his stare. 

Then he simply nods: “Trust goes both ways.” he’s conceding; Jyn doesn’t take it as a win.

He is the first to turn his back on her, to fiddle with the clasps on his bags while she begins to unload some of the more delicate dresses she got, hanging them neatly into the wardrobe. Andor follows, and he hangs his clothes, and pushes them into the other end of the wardrobe. Jyn feels that the distance between, he intensionally creates. To give her space, or to draw his own line?

Jyn locates her nicer shoes, puts them on, and raises her hand, palm up and facing him, a coy smile on her face. “Do you want to walk around the city? Have dinner somewhere?” Liana's eyes gleams, hopeful for some good wine, and music so she can have an excuse to get her husband to hold her, spin her around, and maybe catch a kiss, or two. 

Joreth takes Liana's hand; he always does, always looks at his wife as if Liana hangs the moons, and his eyes shines as bright as stars. “Surprise me, Mrs. Willix.”

* * *

 

_“How do you like it so far?”_

_“There’s a weakness, almost the burden of loss in the people. I can feel it.”  
_

_“Now I’m here... it’s brighter than I’ve imagined. It creeps up on me, I guess.”  
_

_She can only stare at how the light casts over his face, and then she stares to watch, to see, to learn him._

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> (come say hi because i'm begging for prompts over at [tumblr](https://roguewrath.tumblr.com/))


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